


Always Be Legends

by sweetiejelly



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Temporary Character Death, Community: wishlist_fic, M/M, Reincarnation, post-513
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 00:45:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1100464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetiejelly/pseuds/sweetiejelly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for alecto_chan for the <a href="http://wishlist-fic.livejournal.com/">wishlist_fic</a> prompt: "When Merlin finally meets Arthur again, it's in the most unexpected time and place."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always Be Legends

**_Once_**

Once, in a land of myth and a time of magic, there lived a young boy with a great destiny. In Ealdor he was born and in Camelot he was found. The greatest of warlocks, he was both lord (to dragons) and servant (to King Arthur). Like all other children, he grew up. Unlike all other children, he grew old but never quite dead. His name? _Merlin_. 

 

**_A Week Ago_**

A week ago Merlin's next door neighbour's granddaughter came to visit. You look just the same as you did when I was last here as a little girl, she said. I'm an aspiring actress, she said. What's your secret, she said. "Oh blimey, how does one look the same age forever? You're one of those blokes who get more handsome with age, aren't you? Are you an actor?" 

Merlin had raised his hand, ready to magic her memory away (or at least her questions). But at the last moment he bent his palm over his mouth, feigning a whooping cough. She was right. He was the best damn actor the world had never known. Looking the same age was hardly the same as _feeling_ the same age though, and Merlin had grown weary. Travelling in old bones for centuries wasn't unlike traversing an ocean by canoe. Terribly inadvisable. 

So Merlin would start again. His young version would be his own grandson, here on news of his grandfather's passing. _Please, a little privacy would be appreciated. Thank you._

He would take the cats, Arthur and Morgana, a pair of siblings whose fights inspired their names. He would go away for a while, leaving a piece of his magic by the lake just in case. 

He would visit an island, somewhere with sunshine to spare. Perhaps it would improve little Morgana's disposition. Or little Arthur's. Perhaps it would improve his own. 

But Merlin never got to find out, because Merlin, just as Arthur had told him time and time again, was an _idiot_. 

 

**_Last Night_**

Last night there was a blackout in his neighbourhood (that he didn't cause). It felt like a sign - free masked party! Go forth! Indulge! Merlin couldn't resist. He pinched his nose and downed a potion which made him young again. He slipped into newer clothes too, these tight skinny things he'd seen the twentysomethings wear, complete with a long red scarf. 

Out on the pavement, the world was veiled in yet more shades of black: black grey and black green and black black. Merlin could barely make out the group in front of him. He felt like a bat, navigating by sound - three paces forward was the playful yelp, five ahead clicked the high pitched laughter, all revellers who seemed to be headed for the pub. 

Merlin followed. Why not? It'd been years since he last imbibed. 

Inside the pub, a few candles were lit, just enough to make out the shapes of things. He watched the wax dripping red and white onto the wooden table tops. The sight reminded him of another, not particularly simpler, time with kings and knights, dragons and dice. 

He pushed in and ordered a pint. 

~~ 

He was so many (too many) pints in when he noticed the party in the corner. Kids. Well, university kids. There was a cake. And a song. It was somebody's birthday. Merlin looked over just as a lone candle winked out under the prettiest mouth. 

_Make a wish._

He did. He made the same wish he'd made for centuries: _I wish Arthur would bloody come back._

 

**_Now_**

Merlin was on a bed. A very nice bed with fluffy pillows and silk sheets and gods, the warmest blankets. 

He moaned in appreciation as he settled in the cocoon. It felt like being hugged, and Merlin hadn't been properly hugged in ages. He'd missed it. 

He was just drifting back to sleep when a groan issued from somewhere under the bed. Merlin blinked awake. This wasn't his flat! And it was no longer night. He bolted up and, _of course_ , hit his head on the headboard for his troubles. 

"That'll hurt," under-bed voice said, a snort at the end of it. 

"No," Merlin couldn't help drawing out the vowel. "Are you always this brilliant in the mornings?" He leaned gingerly over the edge to peer down at the man who kept him so very warm last night. 

The face was obscured now with shadows under a well-muscled arm, but the mess of blond hair looked as soft as it felt in the dark. 

"Are you always this coordinated?" Blondness shot back, unmoving. 

"You're the one on the floor, mate." Merlin pulled on the elbow to get a clear look at the face. Vaguely, he recalled a chiselled jawline and a high straight nose, lips that wouldn't go amiss on a girl's face. Lips that kissed better than anyone's had in ever. 

Lips that belonged to the birthday boy. 

Merlin smiled. He hadn't messed up after all. The boy was young. This could be a one-time fling. Or perhaps a two-time thing, if he played it right. And in a few nights, he could be in the Caribbean with the cats as planned. 

When the elbow slipped off the face, however, Merlin froze. His body may have been the youngest he'd worn in a while, but he had never felt closer to a heart attack. This could _not_ be happening. 

"What?" The frown aimed at him eased only to deepen again as Merlin continued to stare. 

Merlin shook his head, wordless. However he had expected (hoped, prayed, dreamt) for Arthur to come back to him, it wasn't like this. It was never like this. Not in a million years. _And it's only been a thousand_. He laughed, a little hysterically, because - yes, he got sloshed last night. Yes, there was that power outage (the moon was but a sickle in the sky). Still, shouldn't he have _known_ th _at_ Arthur was back? Shouldn't he have felt some tug, some shred of recognition? Where was his magic that it just threw itself wholeheartedly into _-_

_Oh._

"Bloody hell. You're a bit of an idiot, aren't you?" 

That snapped him out of it. "Oi! Again, 'm not the one on the floor!" 

Arthur grunted and got to his feet, all golden skin and dustings of golden hair. " _Somebody_ probably pushed me." 

Merlin didn't bother answering. His thoughts ping-ponged between _I've fucked up destiny_ and _I've fucked my destiny_ and _he looks just the same_. 

"Fuck," he said to his wrists as he rubbed at his eyes, squeezing them shut as tight as he could. But no matter how hard he tried to pretend this wasn't happening, all Merlin saw was the nest of sunlight like a crown on Arthur's head. "Fuck." 

Arthur padded out of the room and padded back in, surprisingly sensitive to the throbbing in Merlin's head. "Here," he bumped a mug, cold with condensation, against Merlin's arms. "This will help." 

Merlin highly doubted it. Still, he grabbed and gulped. "Thanks." At least Arthur was half dressed now, plaid red pyjamas pulled up to his hips. 

"Look," Arthur ran a hand through his hair, "if it makes you feel any better - I don't usually do this. It was my birthday and my mates-" he gestured vaguely towards the windows and bit down on his lip. 

Merlin thought he looked so young like this, like the Prince Arthur he once knew. 

"And there was just something about you," Arthur looked back at him. "Morgan, was it?" 

Morgan was the name Merlin gave to everyone else. He shook his head. "Merlin." He watched as Arthur sat next to him on the bed, close but not too close, a small measure of awkwardness jammed in the angles of his bones, in the pauses between his movements. Merlin watched hopefully for the smack of destiny's hand, the moment of recognition, a gasp, a laugh, anything. 

"Merlin?" Arthur reached for the mug. "Like the wizard?" He set it down on the dresser. " _Nice_. I'm Arthur." 

"I know," Merlin choked out. Whatever else he didn't know, this he did. He was Merlin and Arthur was his Once and Future King. 

"Right," Arthur's eyes lit up as if with sudden understanding. "That ridiculous cake and the birthday serenade!" 

Merlin remembered. The pub was mostly charcoal despite the flickering of candles and the milk of the moon on its walls. Arthur's lips were strikingly red, and Merlin made a wish. 

When they'd bumped into each other outside the pub, Merlin unsteady and Arthur cupping his elbow with a firm, warm palm, it was like need was a solid thing, nothing abstract or maybe about it. When they stepped into Arthur's flat, it was a given that Merlin should arch into the kiss, offer his neck up as glad sacrifice. 

Now staring at Arthur alive and young and alternatively unsure and cocky before him, Merlin thought it was inevitable. He would _always_ be drawn to his king. 

As if reading his thoughts, Arthur reached out, tracing a thumb over his cheekbone and back behind his ear, finally anchoring his hand large and warm over Merlin's nape as he leaned in, head tilted just so. 

_Abort! Abort!_ Merlin's inner alarm went off. Arthur was back, which had to mean it was nearing the time of Albion's greatest need. He had to focus. He was here to serve his king, not… _serve_ his king. (Where that alarm was last night he did not know. Smashed delirious most likely.) 

"Mmmph!" Merlin slipped out from under Arthur's arm and stood quickly, only tripping once on a blanket as he snatched it up to cover himself. "Erm… the-the loo?" 

Arthur looked at him startled then wounded then not at all. "That way." 

Merlin wavered only a second before fleeing, snatching his garments off the floor as he went. 

~~ 

"So, what do you do, Arthur? You're not secretly royalty, are you?" Merlin felt slightly more collected once he was dressed. He would befriend this Arthur, he had decided. He would help him, even if this Arthur had no idea who he was or who he was going to be. 

Arthur turned from where he was sipping tea and fidgeting with the toaster. "What?" 

"What do you erm-" Merlin spotted a second cuppa on the counter and lifted it in thanks. "What's your job, your purpose in life?" He tried to act nonchalant, like he was just making conversation. 

And promptly burned his tongue on tea. 

"Job and purpose? That's two different questions." Arthur stared as Merlin tried to pretend his tongue wasn't going numb. 

The pop of the toaster startled them both. 

"Maybe." Merlin accepted a slice of slightly overbrowned bread and took a big bite, skipping the offerings of jam and marmite entirely. He hoped Arthur wasn't going to say he was an accountant. Merlin wasn't sure accountants could save the world. 

Arthur opened a drawer and took out a butter knife. Expertly, he spread on a generous helping of jam. Merlin watched the swivel of his wrist. It reminded him of when the knife was a sword and Arthur was his world. "I don't have a job," Arthur said. "Not officially. But I am starting university in the fall." 

Merlin choked on his tea. This Arthur was younger than he thought. 

"Don't look so scandalised. I'm legal enough!" Arthur eyed him as he licked at the knob of his wrist where a dab of jam had smeared like lipstick. "So, how old are you, old man?" Arthur angled a smile at him. 

"Wouldn't you like to know?" 

Arthur studied him again, coming closer. He laid two fingers on Merlin's cheek and rubbed along his stubbles. "You can't be that much older." Arthur let his hand fall away. "You can barely walk." 

"Oi!" 

Arthur threw him a full grin before Merlin could launch his bread like a missile. Disarming. Arthur was disarming with his charm. How could Merlin have forgotten this? 

"What are you planning on studying then?" 

"English." Arthur stared him down, as if daring him to question the choice. 

The look had never worked on Merlin. "Why English?" 

"Who are you? My father?" Arthur's brows furrowed as he chewed. 

"He doesn't approve." Merlin didn't bother making it a question. "Was that the only reason you chose it?" 

"No! That's a _terrible_ reason." Arthur looked at him as if he was daft. "I chose it because I love it _._ Always have. You can go anywhere in a book, be anyone, believe anything. Stories - they give a person faith." 

Merlin wanted to whack Arthur over the head. He had waited years upon lonely years and Arthur was finally coming back to the living to write _stories_ ? "Don't you think it's more productive to actually _do_ something? Be the change you want to see and all that?" 

Arthur abandoned his breakfast and advanced, not stopping until he slotted snug between Merlin's legs. "Oh, I _fervently_ believe in doing." Arthur cupped his hips and trailed his hands up Merlin's side in a hot slide. 

" _Arthur_." Merlin meant to protest but with Arthur's hands where they were, he couldn't voice a good reason. After all, Gwen served Camelot perfectly well when she was married to Arthur. Merlin gave into the kiss, feeling Arthur's fingers tangle in his hair, scrambling his thoughts. 

"What do _you_ do, _Mer_ lin?" Arthur kissed his cheek, breathed in his ear and suckled on his earlobe and really, Merlin should put a stop to this. 

Maybe. 

Or maybe never. 

"Therapy," he rasped. It was his standard answer now when asked. He figured a hundred years into his life that it best summed up what he did. He helped people. It didn't matter whether it was with magic or not. 

"What sort?" Arthur had moved on to his neck and Merlin dug his nails in his own thighs to regain some sort of clarity. 

"Most-mostly physical." Merlin lifted his arms as Arthur dragged his shirt off again. He couldn't deny that he had always found Arthur attractive. Arthur with all of his attention focused on him burned like the midday sun. 

And right now Arthur was _attentive_ , persistent, all weight and warmth, the hottest thing Merlin had ever known. He let himself feel the light drag of teeth over his pulse. He let himself feel the dizzying tilt of the world on its axis as Arthur licked into his mouth again, sweet strawberry and hot tea, all heat as Arthur pressed their bodies together like they were never built to be apart. 

"You _are_ rather good with your hands." Arthur kissed him again before he could reply. And really, Merlin had no words. Last night was something, brilliant even. But last night was for forgetting. Today, this - this was for remembering. 

When he was a manservant to Arthur, Merlin dressed him daily. At first begrudgingly and then gladly. The brushes of skin were inevitable, a part of the job. Merlin knew where Arthur was soft from feasts and where Arthur was strong from training. He knew where Arthur was hurt and where Arthur was healing. He cared for Arthur's body just as he cared for Arthur's shared destiny with him. After all, no body no destiny. 

And Arthur knew he was fit. He stood just as proud in the nude as when clad in full armour. Arthur never hid from him any wound or weakness. His trust was so absolute that it made Merlin hold his breath sometimes as he changed a bandage or helped him into a bath. 

But Merlin was Arthur's manservant and Arthur was his king. Kings were expected to wed queens and Merlin was no girl (whatever Arthur said). In any case, most of the time he was too preoccupied with the art of staying alive, at least long enough to fulfil his destiny. Sometimes though - sometimes out on a quiet hunt with Arthur, when they'd settled in, back to back for warmth in the night - sometimes Merlin thought about it, about letting his fingers linger over skin and actually acknowledging that he was lingering. Maybe look up to see if Arthur was watching him. Arthur did that sometimes, like he was trying to fathom him out. 

Arthur was watching him now, eyes darkened as he licked down Merlin's torso. Merlin's previous experiences, amazing though they were, didn't prepare him at all for this gush of feelings (or this rush of magic) that deepened the sensation of every touch to the point of almost too much. 

"You're so sensitive." Arthur marvelled on a hot exhale, which only made Merlin shudder, proving the point. Not that Merlin minded. This was Arthur. 

This was Arthur on his knees. 

Merlin should have known. Arthur _would_ make love the same way he made war - all skill and all heart. Really, when did Arthur tug down his trousers and pants? Merlin's knees buckled as Arthur hollowed his cheeks and sucked. The tiny smirk he wore somehow added to the appeal and Merlin couldn't help the breathless nonsense streaming out of his mouth. 

"Do you always talk this much?" Arthur popped off to ask. 

Merlin whined. " _Please_." 

"Please what?" 

"Please stop being a prat." 

Arthur's mouth fell open. He looked one fourth outraged and three fourth amused. Merlin took advantage of the distraction to slide his cock back in. 

Arthur made a noise of surprise and licked him in some misguided revenge. 

" _Yes_ ," Merlin curled his fingers in Arthur's hair and tried to still his hips. This felt - god, he didn't want to know where Arthur learned to do this. 

"Easy with the hair." Arthur pried Merlin's fingers off and got up to kiss him hard. "You drive me mad." 

And that wasn't fair at all, because Merlin was sure it was the other way around. 

"Want to ride you," Merlin blurted between kisses. He had had this fantasy once before, lying side by side with Arthur before a battle and imagining himself bold enough to do what two of the young knights were doing at the edge of their camp, their barely suppressed moans so loud they soaked the earth and sky with them. 

Arthur made a strangled sound and grabbed him, backing him up in the direction of the bed. "Mad, I say." 

"You don't want it then? I can go." Merlin grinned as Arthur kissed a punishing _no, stay_ into his mouth. "You can write _stories_ about me and pine away at what could have been." 

Arthur grunted in frustration as he kissed him quiet. "You never stop, do you? How do your patients put up with you? No, don't tell me. They willed themselves better so they don't have to listen to your nattering." 

"Oi! I'm very good at what I do." Merlin followed the lines of Arthur as he kicked off his clothes impatiently, much like the king Arthur used to do. 

"I'm sure you are." Arthur grabbed his hand and curled it around his dick. 

Merlin snorted. Sure, two could play this game. He kept his touches light, slow, barely there just to watch Arthur squirm. Then he licked his palm and fingers and wrapped them back around, stroking in earnest. Arthur felt hot in his hand, all bundles of nerves and smooth, velvety skin. Merlin couldn't stop watching Arthur's eyes or the arch of Arthur's mouth, opening and closing around gasps and almost words. 

"Up," Arthur urged him up the bed only to pin him down and kiss him until Merlin felt like he might burst. He had heard of teenagers snogging for hours before and had never understood it. But now that he was experiencing it, it made every bit of sense. Why would anyone stop? Arthur's lips were soft and supple, warm and wet. Every little suction felt like a promise of better things to come. 

_Promise. Promise. Promise._

_Pinkie promise_ . _Cross my heart and-_

_Promise._

Merlin let himself get lost in the kisses, the way they had to breathe around each other. The way they were breathing each other. He let himself believe this was the dormant part of his king come back to life to claim this little piece he never got to have. 

"Sire," he said softly when they broke apart. 

"What was that?" 

Merlin rested his forehead against Arthur's for a moment before opening his eyes and grinning. "I said, 'tired?'" 

"I'll show you tired." Arthur wrestled him around and kissed a gossamer pattern over the back of his neck, his shoulder blade. He kissed deliberately down to the dip of his spine, which Merlin had never known was this sensitive, _god_. Merlin groaned into the pillows. 

"You're still - _god_." Arthur's finger slid in just the little tip, feeling where Merlin was still loose from last night. He worked in more lube and Merlin lifted from the pillows to breathe. Only to cheek plant a second later. This - being with Arthur - felt so much more intense sober. 

Merlin squeezed his eyes shut and tried to keep from unravelling. When he opened them, he saw the side of the dresser. And remembered how he had bent over it last night in his eagerness, how that had pulled a growl from Arthur's throat. Merlin blushed now over how shameless he was, how much his body had responded to Arthur's, how every touch had sparked only demands for more. 

He wondered how they had never fallen into bed that first lifetime. Guinevere probably. Out of respect for the lady. But Gwen was long gone and Arthur was \- god, Arthur back. Arthur was right _here_. "Arthur," Merlin arched up from the bed to meet him. 

"Look at you," Arthur laughed from where he was opening Merlin up tortuously slow. "Ran out of words?" 

"Prat." 

"Is that the best you can do?" Arthur curled his fingers and pressed against just the right spot. 

" _Fuck_." 

"Soon." And Arthur reached under to give his nipples a pinch. 

"Bastard." 

Arthur just laughed, kissing warm over the back of his arm, the top of his shoulder, his neck and down his spine again. "You like me though. I can tell." 

Merlin wanted to say _I love you, prat. I always have_ , but he didn't. He just looked back at Arthur and licked his lips, a little dizzy from want. 

Arthur looked back at him quietly, in that way old Arthur had when he looked like he was trying to work out Merlin's secret. (Or work out how to trick Merlin into writing another of his speech for him. Or how to get Merlin to go on some ridiculous hunt with him in the dead of winter. Or… well, Arthur stared at him quite a lot.) 

With steady pressure on his hip, Arthur turned him over. Merlin flopped on his back and about arched up on his toes. Arthur was mouthing at him again, sucking at the tip of his cock and licking down to the root and down to flick his tongue around his fingers, which were still pumping in, driving Merlin apart. 

"Please," Merlin's thoughts disintegrated into pleas. _Please, please, please._

Arthur finally pulled his fingers away to roll on a condom (not that he needed to; after an accidental overdose of healing potion during the bubonic plague, Merlin became immune to every disease known to man, except for some reason, the common cold, not that he could tell Arthur any of this). Instead he helped as Arthur lay down in the middle of the bed and hoisted him up by his waist. 

Merlin dipped low to press a kiss - _thank you, I love you_ \- to Arthur's lips before settling back and easing down. Last night he saw almost nothing \- just the faintest blur of shadows against the wall as they moved. But now - now Merlin faced Arthur in the light and saw everything, how Arthur huffed and bit down on his lips or how he threw his head back and closed his eyes. How Arthur couldn't stop touching him, petting at hips and squeezing at thighs, stroking an occasional lazy twist tingly along his cock. How Arthur looked almost quizzical at times. 

"What are you thinking about?" Merlin couldn't help asking as he rolled his hips slowly, just to watch Arthur moan. 

"Not," Arthur panted below him, "doing this right if you're - _ngh_ \- still talking." 

"Shh." Merlin steadied himself with hands on Arthur's legs and rocked harder into the rhythm. "So," he clenched deliberately around Arthur, "right." 

Arthur grabbed his knees as if they were brakes and squeezed. "Gods," he tried to hold them still but gave up and gave in and moved in perfect, frantic counterpoint to Merlin's downward slide. It wasn't long until he came in surprising silence. No war cry or rebel yell. Arthur just looked at him in wordless wonder. 

"Merlin." Arthur grabbed his hand and brushed a kiss to a knuckle. 

The gesture undid him. He came. In no way quietly, Merlin came. _Arthur_. He just rode Arthur and it wasn't a dream. 

~~ 

"What do you want to write about?" Merlin wiggled his toes against the curve of Arthur's instep. It wasn't the best pillow talk, not that that was a specialty of his, but Merlin couldn't mute the question on his mind. What masterpiece was Arthur supposed to compose that would save the world? 

What did destiny have in mind this time? Merlin had no dragon to ask now. Kilgharrah was long gone from this world like everyone else. He could try screaming into the lake of Avalon but centuries of experience taught him that only brought on worried looks from the living and silence from the dead. 

"Hmm?" Arthur turned to him languidly, still hazy from before. 

Merlin poked him in the arm. "Writing - what do you want to write about?" He asked again. 

Arthur groaned and turned to face him properly, propping his head up on a palm. "I don't know. I've always been drawn to the legends, I suppose. Merlin the wizard and King Arthur, my namesake, and dragons and knights and such." 

Merlin swallowed hard. Arthur looked so earnest, like he was living some picture book. "Do you believe in those legends?" 

Arthur squinted at him. "Is that a trick question?" 

Merlin turned and mirrored Arthur's stance, hand pressing hard against his temple. "Yes. If you get it wrong, I'm leaving." He said easily even as his heart hammered in his chest. 

Arthur grinned then threw his head back and laughed, all Adam's apple and taut skin. And Merlin was struck once again by how young this Arthur was. "Yes," Arthur ran a finger down along Merlin's arm. "Of course some of it's bound to be wrong. The tales have been passed down so many generations after all. But yes, I believe the wizard and the king, all of them were real. Even the magic and the dragons. Don't laugh." 

"I'm not laughing." In fact, Merlin felt a bit like crying. Hardly anybody believed anymore. Trust Arthur to come back with his memory wiped and with his heart still full. Merlin blinked and cleared his throat. "What do you think happened to them?" 

Arthur shrugged. "People die, even legends." 

"But what about Merlin with his magic? Perhaps I'm him." Merlin stared hard at Arthur's chin and willed him to remember. "Perhaps you're King Arthur." 

Arthur ran his hand back up over Merlin's shoulder and down over Merlin's neck to tease along Merlin's collarbones. "You're a strange one, aren't you?" 

Merlin closed his eyes. Right. Of course. Nothing was ever as it once was. He couldn't expect his old king back, that much was certain. He opened his eyes and shrugged, trying for a smile. "No more strange than those legends." 

"Oh, I don't know. They say the truth is stranger than fiction." Arthur looped his fingers over and over Merlin's chest, inkless infinities. 

It was too true and Merlin felt once more like the singular exception to the world of the living. He pulled away and promptly tripped over the sheets again as he stood. "Erm - cats! I have to go feed my cats," he said, looking everywhere but at Arthur. 

But Arthur was directly in front of him and Merlin couldn't help catching his features between the greys of clouds. " _Cats_?" Arthur looked supremely dubious. 

Merlin dropped his sock and dropped to the bed again to cup Arthur's face. He had done this, hand cradling cheek, the last time he saw him. He had been crying then, inconsolable. At least this time Arthur was alive. There was still hope for him yet. Merlin dropped a peck to Arthur's lips. "Cats. I have two of them. One is named Arthur actually, even though she's a girl. And her sister is Morgana. And I would really like to see you again even though you're so young." 

"Twenty-five." 

"What?" Merlin was pretty sure Arthur was eighteen. 

"You're at most twenty-five." 

Merlin laughed. It was closer to a thousand five hundred and twenty-five, not that he was counting after the first few hundreds. 

"Twenty-six," he said, just to be contrary. 

"I can handle twenty-six." Arthur handed him his mobile. "Give me your number and I'll give you mine." 

~~ 

Going on dates with Arthur and not having to carry all the picnic baskets was something new. Merlin found he quite liked it. 

They met up in restaurants and theatres, parks and pubs. Arthur met little Arthur and Morgana. Merlin met Arthur's sheets again, got his ankles wrapped up in their hold again. 

And Merlin got no closer to figuring out how this Arthur was supposed to help Albion. Or well, _England_. Arthur was just a lad. A lad Merlin was falling in love with but still just a lad, not even destined to be king this time. 

This day, they sprawled over Arthur's couch eating takeaway and watching a horror film. 

"Do you believe in reincarnation?" Merlin asked between his bites of naan. 

"You mean people coming back as chickens or something?" 

_Chickens._ Merlin panicked at once. Had he actually eaten Arthur before or his own mum? He shook off the thought. How horrid. "No! As other people." 

"Hmm, you could have been Audrey Hepburn in a past life." 

"What?!" 

"She was beautiful." Arthur didn't seem to hear the indignation in Merlin's voice at all. 

"Are you saying _I'm_ beautiful?" 

Arthur turned to look at him. Then blushed. "Maybe you were Gandhi." 

"Are you saying my soul is beautiful?" 

Arthur threw a devilled egg at him. 

When they've settled much later, night wrapped dark and muggy around them, Arthur admitted quietly. "I've been having these really unsettling dreams. Of battlefields." 

Merlin's blood quickened. He hadn't cast any spell on Arthur, but he had hoped against hope that something would filter through Arthur's memory anyway. "Oh?" 

"And sometimes I get this really strange feeling that I've known you forever." 

Merlin couldn't help his strangled laugh. "Am I in them? Your dreams? On those battlefields?" 

Arthur rested his chin on Merlin's shoulder and breathed him. "You're in better dreams." And Arthur kissed him. 

Merlin could only close his eyes in disappointment. Arthur was never going to remember him. 

~~ 

Two years into their relationship, Arthur got hit by a bus on the way home from class. They had settled into a routine now where Merlin felt so stupidly in love that he forgot to feel lonely or disappointed that Arthur was Arthur but not really. 

"Are you family?" 

"Yes." Merlin didn't feel bad about lying to the receptionist at the A &E. Arthur was the most family he had left in this world. 

Arthur had a few cuts and scrapes but no broken bones. He had a concussion and was still unconscious. Merlin heard the stream of jargons as he stared at the motionless, supine figure of Arthur draped in white. White had never been Arthur's colour. Arthur was red and full of life everywhere he went. He had friends and admirers by the basketful. It was nothing new that Merlin hadn't witnessed before. 

_You could still do great things_ , Merlin always thought when he witnessed Arthur in action. _Even if you don't do them yourself, you could inspire others to do anything for you. I would._

Merlin sat up with Arthur for two days and two nights and finally met his father and step sisters. Uther was different in this life - quieter, more distant and named William. Morgana and Morgause were Ella and Margaret and no warmer towards him than in their previous lives. Although by the end of the second day, Ella (Morgana) did warm significantly enough to pull him aside to the hospital cafeteria. 

"It's just that you're so much older than my brother. We worry you're taking advantage. But now I see you really do care for him. You look horrid, you know?" And Ella offered him under eye makeup, much to Merlin's horror. 

"Suit yourself." Ella shrugged and smeared some of the cream under her own eyes. "You were not the first surprise at least. We all thought Arthur would take law and follow in father's footsteps. But on his tenth birthday Arthur found a cache of his mother's personal effects - books and letters, a whole pile of fairy tales. All of the sudden he wanted to become a writer. There was no talking him out of it. 'It's my destiny to become a writer,' he would insist. My brother is so dramatic sometimes." 

Merlin's eyes welled up, half from the lack of sleep and half from the talk of destiny. He took a scalding sip of his coffee and blinked in blind acknowledgement. 

"Hey, he's going to be okay." Ella laid a hand on his arm. 

And Merlin looked up, wondering if she had the gift of premonition in this life as well. "I hope so." Merlin wasn't going to leave it up to the fates though. He knew how unreliable they were. And he'd just got Arthur back. He was going to see to it personally if Arthur took another night to wake. 

"You know," Ella looked at him closely, "even with the fatigue, you look young for your age." 

"Well," Merlin cracked a smile for the first time in days, "they have potions for that." 

"Do they now?" Ella broke into laughter, delight softening her features until she looked just like the young woman Merlin first met lifetimes ago. 

~~ 

Arthur woke on the third day, when Merlin was just about to sink the whole of his healing magic into him whatever the consequences. 

"Merlin." Arthur grabbed for him a little desperately. 

"I'm here." Merlin held Arthur harder than was probably advisable. 

"You waited for me." Arthur looked at him with so much of old Arthur's eyes that Merlin couldn't speak for a moment. 

"Of course." 

Then William, Ella and Margaret crowded in along with the doctor and the nurses, and Merlin was relegated to the corner to wait some more. 

~~ 

On the fourth day, Arthur was discharged from the hospital. Merlin helped him home to the flat they shared now with little Arthur and Morgana. 

"Did you feed them?" Arthur asked as little Arthur clambered up his chest and purred. 

With magic Merlin had. "Of course I did." 

"But you were there with me the whole time. Nurse Cathy said so." Arthur was staring at him again in that intense way he hadn't stopped staring since the day before. "Tell me." 

"Tell you what?" 

"The truth, Merlin. That's all I've ever wanted from you." 

"You remember then?" Merlin was shaking with it. At first he had thought he needed Arthur to remember but he didn't. It wasn't a need. It was a want. But oh, did Merlin _want_. 

"It's impossible." Arthur stroked his hands through little Arthur's fur, making Merlin wish he was her. 

"Nothing's impossible." 

Arthur took a deep breath. "You're not twenty-eight." 

Merlin closed his eyes. "No." He picked up little Morgana and let her jump off his chest a moment later. 

"Show me." Arthur wiggled his fingers. 

Merlin wondered what magic he could call up now as proof. As he thought about it, flickers of flames danced around them, candle-less and suspended in mid-air. 

Arthur's breath caught. His eyes shined with wonder, then worry. "What - if it's true - what am I supposed to do, Merlin? Why am I back?" 

Merlin wished he had a better answer. "I don't know." 

~~ 

That night Merlin lay in Arthur's arms and it felt like the first time. 

"Sire," Merlin said as he held him. 

"Merlin." Arthur kissed him over and over again, careful and slow, like he wanted to savour, to remember. 

~~ 

The next day they brainstormed for the longest time. But England wasn't under any new, immediate threat. At least nothing that Arthur could solve. 

"Perhaps this was a mistake," Arthur finally whispered what was in the back of Merlin's mind for so long. 

But with the words out in the open, Merlin suddenly saw how wrong they were. "No, you're _never_ a mistake." 

~~ 

"Do you know what my mother wrote in the letters she left for me?" Arthur said from where he had stopped typing on his laptop. 

"What?" 

"She said she left me books because they were the most precious items she owned. 'With words come whole worlds full of possibilities. I want your heart to be filled with wonder and hope.'" 

Merlin half loved and half hated Arthur's mother for that. "That's beautiful." 

"I was thinking - you know that song?" Arthur hummed a few bars of _Royals_. "It was on the radio today. And I was thinking - obviously we'll never be royals. Not in this lifetime. So 'the once and future king' - perhaps the story's there to give people hope. Like Santa. Old Saint Nicholas is not any one person, after all, but rather millions of parents." 

Merlin's heart sank. It made a mad sort of sense. The world had had its fair share of heroes throughout the centuries. That was true. But then what was the point of him? "Why am I here?" 

Arthur looked appropriately chastised at that. "Perhaps the world needs you still." 

~~ 

Right out of university, Arthur landed, without any of his father's connections, a job at a small publisher. 

"Editing is nothing like writing, but it will give me time to write!" Arthur looked so happy that Merlin didn't have the heart to cry. 

But he couldn't help wondering - what was an editor slash fledgling writer going to do to save the world? 

~~ 

In their tenth year together, Arthur proposed to him in the most roundabout proposal of marriage ever. 

There was first a book jacket with Arthur's name on it. And a bouncing Arthur next to it. "Look, Merlin, look!" 

Merlin didn't have to look but he did anyway. "I can't believe you made me write all your speeches for you when deep down you had this much to say." 

Arthur poked him. "I only made you write them because you had a weird love of writing speeches." 

Merlin glared at him. 

"Alright. Fine! Because I wanted an excuse to see more of your face?" 

Merlin rolled his eyes. Arthur was incorrigible. "You're still a gigantic prat. But I'm proud of you, Arthur. Congratulations on your first book." 

Arthur accepted his kiss and stole another. "I also did a thing." 

Merlin tried to ignore the mewing of the no longer so little, little Arthur at their feet. "For a writer, your command of the English language is atrocious." 

"Don't you want to see?" Arthur's grin slit wide on his face. He looked like a child hopped up on sugar. 

Merlin gave in. "Let's see this thing." 

Arthur dragged him to his laptop and sat him down. 

"What is it?" Merlin leaned back as little Arthur jumped up to his lap. When the cat settled, Merlin looked at the page of mostly text and registered that it was one of those sites with fiction by people calling themselves fans. 

Arthur pointed to a particular title. "It's for you. I wrote it for you. Of course, I couldn't say from your once and future king, but…" Arthur clicked a link. 

"For my once and future husband, M," Merlin read. "I- we were never husbands." 

Arthur shrugged. "You saw more of me than Guinevere ever did. I loved her. Of course I did, but I loved you, too. Maybe more." 

Merlin didn't know what to say and Arthur didn't give him a chance. "Sit and read and I will be back with dinner." 

"You're cooking?!" Merlin couldn't help the panic in his voice. Arthur could just about manage toast and coffee. That was it. 

Arthur's laughter carried from down the halls. "Don't be daft! I'm popping out to get some carry out. Be back in a tick. Read!" 

Merlin turned around. He could have sworn that between the two of them, sometimes it felt like Arthur was the one with magic. He always knew when Merlin wasn't doing something he had asked. 

So Merlin shed his coat and read. 

It was a story about him. The immortal warlock felt adrift, purposeless, in a world which had moved on from him, a world with lighters and videoconferencing, air conditioning and airplanes, a world which didn't _need_ him anymore. 

Or so he thought. Until one day he met the exact replica of an old flame from his old life. Do you know, the old flame said after days of catching up with him in a pub, that over the years you have rescued countless thousands of cats? Do you know that you have taught generations of young nurses and helped children to dream with their eyes wide open? Do you know that you saved scores of wounded, that you helped bring peace? Do you know you have done more than any one single human being could ever claim to have accomplished over his or her lifetime? 

"Merlin?" Arthur knelt next to where he still sat, reading the end over and over again. 

Merlin turned to look at Arthur but he couldn't speak. 

"Merlin," Arthur took hold of his hand. "If I didn't manage to make my point with my atrocious command of the English language, I just want to say that I'm so glad I met you again, that I get to love you this way this time around. I want to make the most of our second chance. So, that's why, _Mer_ lin, I would be the happiest Arthur ever if you would do me the honour of becoming my husband." 

_Husband_ . The _future_ part of the dedication finally clicked. 

"Did you just propose to me?" 

Arthur rolled his eyes. "If I didn't know this was your shocked-in-a-good-way face, I would be offended." 

"Yes?" 

Arthur shook his head. "Without the question mark, please. Will you marry me, Merlin? Will you be mine?" Arthur looked at him earnestly, his king and his lover. 

"Yes." He slid down to Arthur's lap and kissed promises into his skin. "Always." 

~~ 

Half a year later, Merlin found himself on a lunch date with Ella. "My treat," she'd said. He should have known she was up to something. 

"Ella," Merlin tried to keep the annoyance out of his voice without much luck. "No." 

"But think of the cause," she pushed on as Merlin stabbed at his salad. "Arthur's book is taking off. There's talk of making it into a movie. He's become a small celebrity of sorts, more of a name than father ever was. There is a spotlight on him and undoubtedly there will be one on you. If the two of you adopt - putting aside how adorable it would be to have a little niece or nephew - it would shed a light on-" 

"Ella, I said no." Merlin said quietly but firmly. He and Arthur had talked about this. It would have been amazing to experience children together. But if Merlin were to keep on living, he would outlive any children or even grandchildren. And as much as Merlin had lost, he couldn't bear to lose a child. 

Arthur had understood. "We have little Arthur and Morgana. And each other." 

Merlin wished it wasn't all they could have. He was supposed to be the most powerful warlock the world had ever known. Yet sometimes he felt like a genie in a bottle, quite trapped. 

He visited Lake Avalon that night, sat quietly by the shore like he did for years on end once upon a time. "Freya, if you can hear me - I miss you. I miss everyone. I miss Arthur even as he lay in my arms. Because I know how fast the years go by. Why is he here? Why am I here? Will I ever get to leave?" 

It was quiet (save for the honking of a lorry and the wind through the trees). "Freya, please." 

The bubbling was quiet but steady as the water rippled. Merlin jumped up and there she was - Freya, water beaded on her cheeks and down over her arms. She was encased in blue light and beautiful. "Merlin," she smiled fondly at him. "I don't have much time. But take heart. Hold on to Arthur. There will be more." 

"More what? Freya!" 

But Freya was already fading, like a hologram flickering. "You are magic itself, Merlin. To-" her words cut off and where she'd stood was again nothing. 

Merlin wanted to scream. 

~~ 

Two years into their married life there was a scandal. A woman who looked uncannily like Sophia the Sidhe claimed publicly and quite loudly that Arthur was her child's father and that she was suing for compensation. 

Merlin knew it to be a lie from the start. Arthur was never in love with Sophia - not the first time and certainly not this time. 

"Not that I would blame you for wanting a child of your own," Merlin blurted, his throat dry. Arthur never had a child with Gwen. He was due really. 

" _Mer_ lin." Arthur turned him around and cradled his head. "You _idiot_." 

"No, really. I-" Merlin tried to put on a strong front, but Arthur kissed it away. 

"I want _you_." Arthur pressed proofs to his lips and curled proofs against his tongue. "If this is the last lifetime I get to have with you, then I want to spend all of it with you." 

And as Arthur's hands cupped warm and sure around him, Merlin believed. 

~~ 

William showed up the next day to process the paperwork to represent his son. Merlin didn't know what to think. In all the years he had been with Arthur, he'd barely exchanged more than a few dozen stilted platitudes with him. He was half afraid the man would sabotage his son's case just to gain a grandchild. (After all, Uther went to great lengths for Arthur.) 

But William wore a mask of cool and didn't once lose his temper like Uther used to do. Steadfastly he presented evidence after evidence to clear his son's name. Merlin came to know during those intense weeks the depth of William's love. 

"Thank you." Merlin sought him out at the end of the trial, when Arthur's name was finally cleared. 

William shook his proffered hand in a crushing grip. "It's the least I can do for my sons." 

~~ 

When Arthur found him later still blinking tears out of his eyes, Merlin startled him by blurting, "I think I love your dad." 

"Love? My dad?" 

"Not like that! And William I mean. Your dad William. He's a good father." 

Arthur's sigh of relief made Merlin fake-punch him in the arm. "Idiot." 

~~ 

Three years, a trilogy and two films later, Arthur's fame rose higher than ever. Reviewers started dubbing him king of the young adult fantasy genre. King Arthur, the headlines proclaimed, had risen again. 

"What do you know? You're royalty after all." 

Arthur wasn't much impressed. "Does that mean I get breakfast in bed?" He mumbled from where he was still crushed in the sheets, half asleep. 

Merlin aimed a biscuit in his general direction. 

~~ 

"I want you two to be the godfathers." Ella said by way of greeting. 

Merlin looked at her flat stomach and up again. 

"Elizabeth and I are adopting." 

At the panic on Merlin's face, Ella held tight to his hands. "Please. You're the only men I like." 

Merlin forced out a laugh. He hadn't thought about the possibility of becoming an uncle. But it looked like Morgana was going to be death of him in this lifetime too. 

"Alright." 

~~ 

The boy looked just like Mordred. Merlin's hand trembled in Arthur's hand. 

"Isn't Michael adorable?" Ella cooed. 

Arthur gripped his fingers firmly and answered for them both. "Much more so than you." 

~~ 

A few months later, at age two, Michael was still not talking and Ella and Elizabeth started to worry. Merlin wished he could out himself and let them know that little Michael was talking just fine, only not out loud but inside Merlin's head. 

"Uncle Merlin!" Little Michael was always fast to greet him. "Mama made rum cake." 

"Did you make rum cake?" Merlin sometimes forgot that no one else heard Michael except him. 

Elizabeth, or as Arthur called her 'Guinevere's sister with short hair', looked at him in surprise. "Yes, I found a new recipe to try. How did you know?" 

"This one has a nose like a truffle pig." Arthur grinned at him as he pushed past to pick up Michael. "Want to hear a story?" 

Arthur had this theory that their destiny was tied up with Michael's just like last time. 

"How?" 

Arthur didn't know. "But it would make sense, wouldn't it?" 

"He's not going to kill you again. I forbid it." 

Arthur had laughed, but when he'd caught the look on Merlin's face, he'd stopped at once. "I forbid it, too," he swore. 

Now Arthur was on a quest to tell Michael the whole of their history (as a story). "That's my specialty, Merlin. I can't think of what else to do." 

Michael loved it. His eyes would stay trained on Arthur's unblinking, and after every tale he would clap, childish glee pressed loud between little fingers. 

Merlin hoped Arthur was right. He couldn't bear history replaying itself in a tragic loop. 

~~ 

Michael was five years old and no longer spoke only to Merlin's mind (though he still did that too). 

On Boxing Day, when they all gathered at William's for a family brunch, little Michael lit the lights on the Christmas tree by pointing at them and saying, "On!" 

Elizabeth's jaw dropped. Ella looked around to figure out the prank. Margaret asked if he could do it again. 

"He's not a toy, Margaret," Arthur scooped the boy up and carried him to the kitchen. 

Merlin's feet felt like lead. He looked up and saw William looking contemplative. "Just the other day I heard about a child like this," William said, "with abilities." 

Merlin forced himself to breathe steadily. Magical babies were coming back into the world. What did this mean? This had to mean _something_. 

"He's not alone?" Elizabeth looked hopeful. "So, it's…he has…" 

"Magic." Merlin held out his palm. The lights clicked off. 

There was a collective gasp, uneven breathing. "You too?" Ella stared at him like he held all the answers in the world. 

"Born with it." When everyone else continued to stare at him, he continued, "Ar-Arthur knew." And then he couldn't stop talking. "Michael has been talking to me telepathically since you brought him home. He's not slow. He was just scared. I wanted to tell you but I didn't know how." 

"Without implicating yourself," said Margaret. 

"You make it sound like a crime and it's not." Merlin shook his head and stared back at her. "It's a skill - like doing long division in your head. Some people just could and some could with a bit of practice, and then some could not at all no matter what." 

"But magic," Elizabeth was still struggling. "How do you explain it? I mean, with science?" 

Merlin had no idea. He had never tried to explain it, with science or otherwise. It just was. "If scientists knew about magic," he hedged, "I'm sure they could figure out the rules that govern it." 

"Potions," Ella squinted at him. 

Merlin was surprised she still remembered. "Yes, like potions. Exactly. You are what you eat." 

"How old are you?" 

Before Merlin could think of what to say, Arthur came back into the room, Michael behind him happily crunching on a biscuit. "Ella, leave it." 

Michael surprised everyone and answered for him, "A thousand five hundred and fifty-two." 

Everyone stared at him, even Merlin. _Am I really that old? That sounds old._

Then William cracked up in laughter. "That's a good one, Michael." 

~~ 

Later that night, lying in Arthur's arms Merlin wondered out loud. "Does my age bother you?" 

Arthur nipped him on his ear. "Might I remind you I'm actually older? If you're a thousand five hundred and fifty-two, then I'm a thousand five hundred and fifty-three." 

"So competitive," Merlin leaned back into Arthur's heat. "Although I don't think you can count the years in between…" 

Arthur rolled over him so that he was pinning down Merlin's wrists with his hands and Merlin's legs with his legs. "Merlin," he pressed hot kisses to Merlin's lips like it was their first night, like he couldn't get enough. "I've never known or loved anyone for as long as I've known and loved you. And I never will. Swear to me you'll keep finding me if-" 

"Yeah, I think I'm quite stuck with you." 

Arthur tickled him. "You mean your soul's stuck on mine." 

"Ugh, souls!" Merlin wrapped himself tight around Arthur and kissed and kissed him until all of their clothes fell off. 

After that too. More kissing. _Lots_ of kissing. 

Arthur was late to his meeting with his editor the next morning. 

~~ 

Arthur's next trilogy, although still about magicals fighting for justice, was now set in modern times. 

When he was asked why the change of setting when dystopias were still so popular, he said matter-of-factly, "Because there is magic in our world now." 

It sparked a conversation. 

Parents of children with magic started coming forth. At first only online under pseudonyms for fear of prosecution, then in person when it became obvious that the number was far greater than anyone had guessed. All over the world there were magical children, from Greenland to Australia, from Ghana to China, in Italy and in Brazil, there were children just like Mordred. All of them were born in the last decade, after Arthur had come back to Merlin's life again. 

"Perhaps this is it." Merlin and Arthur looked at each other and dared to hope. "Perhaps this is the destiny." 

~~ 

A year later, Merlin ran a high fever. It wasn't the common cold. It felt human and terrible. 

"I feel like I'm going to die," he groaned as he shifted under the ice packs. 

"You're such a baby. It's just the flu." Arthur held his hand anyway and gave himself away with a tiny frown between his eyebrows. 

"Excuse me, Mister My Soup Is Too Hot, My Blankets Are Too Cold." 

"Shut up, Merlin." Arthur arranged his blankets and shifted on the bed. "You don't think this means…" 

Merlin gave him a weak smile. "God, I hope so." But even as he said it, he gripped Arthur's hand harder. He had counted on another lifetime with Arthur. Even if he had to wait another thousand years. 

~~ 

"Let's adopt." Merlin said as soon as he got better. 

"Okay," Arthur agreed easily. "Calico? Norwegian Forest? Turkish Van?" 

"Human." 

"Human." Arthur repeated slowly as if he were hard of hearing. "I'm sorry. Did you say human?" 

Merlin nodded. 

"But-" 

"I know we're late. You're forty. A young forty, but still forty. But we can adopt a - a teenager, if you like." 

Arthur looked at him like he'd lost his mind. 

"Arthur, I could die." Merlin pleaded and hoped Arthur understood. "I had the flu. I've never had the flu. I want - I want a child with you. I want everything with you and if this is the only chance we've got-" 

"Merlin, Merlin, Merlin." Arthur clasped his hands to his chest. "Are you sure? What I said still stands. I only need you." 

"You would make a great father, Arthur. You're so good with Michael and-" 

"You too." Arthur hugged him tight and laughed. "Okay. Okay, we're going to be fathers!" 

~~  
  


It was not even a question the moment they set eyes on little Elena. "My favourite character from _Harry Potter_ is Luna Lovegood and I love horses" was how she introduced herself. 

Merlin and Arthur signed the papers the same day and brought her home the week after to a room her aunt Ella had painted with ponies. 

~~ 

The first night, Merlin and Arthur fretted in their bedroom, listening for any noise of distress and hoping that Elena loved her new home. 

What they heard instead was neighing. 

They bolted out of bed and rushed down the hall to Elena's room. 

There she stood calmly, petting her mare (which looked just like one of the horses Ella had painted on the wall). "I'm going to name her Grunhilda." 

Merlin burst out laughing. "Are you? I think that's a _great_ name." 

~~ 

Merlin went back to the Lake Avalon one last time. 

"Freya," he called out to the quiet ripples. "Can I say goodbye? And thank you." 

It took longer than last time, but at last she emerged, ethereal as ever. "Merlin," her dimples dripped deep blue and beautiful, "I should be thanking you. You brought magic back to the world. You did it." 

"Was that my destiny? And Arthur's? Are we done?" 

Freya laughed, her voice like a river. "You will always be legends, Merlin." 

That was neither here nor there, but for once Merlin was glad of it. He didn't want to know, he realised. He wanted to live each day with Arthur and Elena like it could be their last together. 

"So will you, Freya, Lady of the Lake." 

Freya smiled beatifically. Then vanished. 

****

 

**_Future_**

A child was born thousands of years later with ten fingers and ten toes, and a mop of curly black hair. After much deliberation, his parents named him after a legendary warlock. His name? _Merlin_. 

**Author's Note:**

> This took a bit of forever to write since I made the mistake of asking Q what he thought would be a most unexpected place for Arthur to come back. Under the bed, he said. Though I don't think he quite meant in that way! ;)


End file.
